The Gates of Erebor
by literaturelife7
Summary: A fic looking at what was going on during the time Bilbo was conversing with Smaug. From the POV of Bilbo and Thorin (and later Smaug). A fun story written for a college assignment with only mild angst.
1. Introduction

**This is a story I wrote as an assignment for a college lit. class. I had the coolest professor ever who had us write Tolkien fanfiction. This is mine (I'll be editing and publishing in multiple chapters). **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, this setting etc. Tolkien does. **

Note: Bilbo Baggins had chronicled his journeys in _There and Back Again _aka _The Hobbit. _But, as he admitted in _The Lord of the Rings_, he changed some details. The book is from his perspective. What follows is an account from the gates of Erebor from the perspectives of Thorin and Bilbo separate from the book. While the key events remain the same the thoughts and dialogue of the characters is slightly different. It is another perspective of an important event in _The Hobbit_. I have, however, tried to remain as true to Tolkien's original work as possible while still adding my own creative touches (like an epic game of "hide and seek" between the dwarves).

The landscape was dark and gray; one had only to look upon it to see that a terrible evil had once befallen it. There was a nearby lake; somewhat dingy as if a shadow loomed over it. There was a cluttered settlement on its shore. Nearby were the ruins of an old city: Dale. There were legends whispered of what had befallen the doomed city many years before. Looming over this desolate landscape was a lone majestic mountain. It seemed to rise up out of nowhere like a dignified being in an impoverished court. It was rightly nicknamed The Lonely Mountain. Standing upon its edges were the gates of a once-great kingdom. There was a dark beauty in the mountain and the surrounding land. Sometimes steam could be seen rising from the mountain. There were also legends about the tragedy that had taken place there and what loomed inside. There was treasure, yes, but also an evil beyond all imagining.


	2. Past Remembrances

**Here is the second chapter! Thorin's POV. Seeing Erebor again has brought back memories of Smaug's attack. He also thinks this burglar is more trouble than he's worth. The beginning chapters are more introspective/ thought-based. There will be more dialogue and action later. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this setting. They belong to Tolkien. All hail Tolkien! Annnnd...this fic is also being published on Archive of Our Own under my same username (literaturelife7). **

Thorin Oakenshield looked upon the mountain with a profound mixture of emotions: he felt the pride and love of his homeland, but at the same time the furious agony of having lost it. Most of all he felt the call of vengeance: he had to kill Smaug. He had to reclaim what was his: Erebor and the Arkenstone. He sat heavily. The Arkenstone. Words could not describe the brilliance of the gem and the light it cast. But it also cast something over the hearts of all who saw it. He had seen his grandfather all but driven mad by his treasure, and he knew a strange longing had been creeping into his heart. He knew he had an intense desire for this precious gem and to be ruler of a rich kingdom as was his right. He had tried to remain focused on the task at hand and the reason he was doing it: to reclaim his home for himself and the brave company that had followed him. But with such anger and longing it was hard to keep emotions in check; even for a strong king such as Thorin.

When they first approached the gates it all came rushing back to him: the day the wrath of Smaug the Terrible tore everything apart. It had been a day like any other. Thorin had been out in the surrounding countryside near the mountain enjoying the beauty of the day. But so very quickly everything changed. Wind whipped the branches around him; he could still remember the sickening creaking sound of the great trees. It was as if a hurricane had suddenly blown in. Then they all heard it: the roaring fury of a dragon. There were flames and crashing stone as they looked on in horror unable to move or do anything. The great red beast, a fire drake from the North, tore apart the city of Dale. Fire rained down as people ran. The screams of his victims tore through the air. Then the great beast turned and headed to his main target: Erebor. Thorin had roared in anger and charged toward his home when suddenly a flaming branch had fallen and cut off his path. He felt a searing pain on his arm; the dragon's fire had left its mark. A mark he carried still. He had wept in anguish as smoke poured from the gates of the once great kingdom: his home. He had watched the distant specks of his people fleeing down the mountain as the large red form of the dragon shoved his way into the halls of Erebor. Smaug had found what he had been looking for: vast treasure. Later Thorin had been relieved to find that his father and grandfather were alive. But it was a small comfort in the midst of so much destruction and death. He was now without a home; without a kingdom.

Thorin shook his head; it was no use dwelling on the past. He looked around and spotted Bilbo Baggins by the walls of the gate. He was messing with the giant snails again. Thorin rolled his eyes. The Hobbit was treating this as some kind of grand adventure. He had been very doubtful when Gandalf had introduced the so-called burglar. He thought it was a joke or that Gandalf had finally gone mad. But the Hobbit had proven useful thus far. Thorin only hoped that Bilbo had what it took to face down a dragon. He had a hard time believing that such a small Hobbit could outwit and defeat a fearsome beast that struck fear in the hearts of the most seasoned warriors.

That homebody from the Shire knew nothing of dragons. He knew nothing of Thorin's world: seeing his home burn, his people exiled. That day Thorin had felt the scorching heat of dragon fire: and he vowed to never forget it. He had vowed to never be helpless again like he had been on that day; just sitting there watching his people killed and his home taken. This had turned him into a fierce warrior, one that was willing to risk everything in order to reclaim what was rightfully his. And no one was going to get in his way: especially not some Hobbit from Bag End who had barely been out his front door.


	3. Grudging Respect

**This is the last introspective chapter before the action and dialogues starts taking place and it gets real! I wanted to have a moment with Bilbo and the snails because for some reason that's a part I loved in the book. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this setting. They belong to Tolkien. All hail Tolkien! Annnnd...this fic is also being published on Archive of Our Own under my same username (literaturelife7).**

Bilbo grabbed a nearby stick and poked absentmindedly at the large snail. Normally he would be fascinated by such creatures and would try to figure out a way to bring one home to his garden: but he had too much on his mind: such as the fact that he may not be alive to make it home (snail or no snail). His stomach grumbled and he looked at the sky. It was about ten, he would be finishing second breakfast by now if he were still in the Shire. And what had he eaten today? Stale bread and some questionable meat that he dared not question as to its origins. It was times like this that he wondered why he even bothered going on this confounded adventure. He was perfectly comfortable and respectable back in the Shire. He didn't really need the money; although large amounts of treasure would be nice. He cursed the Tookish instinct that had awoken in him that night the dwarves had barged into his home. He had no business on this journey. He wasn't a great warrior like Thorin or a wizard like Gandalf. He seemed to always be getting the group into more trouble. Sure, he had proved resourceful and had gotten the group, and himself, out of a couple of scrapes. But it hadn't really been him. He fingered the golden ring in his pocket. He still felt as if he had cheated somehow. It wasn't any natural ability that had helped him (except for his abilities at riddles perhaps), but he had had to rely on an outside source for aid. The Dwarves all knew this and yet they still thought him a legitimate burglar. Except for Thorin. Bilbo looked over to where the dwarf sat brooding, as usual. Thorin had given him a hard time ever since the moment they first met. He looked upon Bilbo as a liability. Bilbo sighed. Thorin was just so narrow-minded and focused on reclaiming his home that he was willing to risk everything. Of course, Bilbo didn't really know much about such matters. He still had his cozy home waiting for him back in the Shire (if he made it back again) and had never had to fight in battles or watch his loved ones be torched by a dragon. How he gotten embroiled with the ventures of a proud, vengeful, and stubborn dwarf was beyond him. Sure, one could ascribe the blame to Gandalf, but in reality Bilbo was the one who had made the foolish decision to go along with the plan knowing that he had no experience as a burglar. And now he had to face a dragon. A dragon so fierce that warriors greatly feared him. Much braver and more experienced men had lost their lives to this beast. He, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, would be facing Smaug the Tremendous, and he had absolutely no idea what the outcome would be.

-Thorin's POV-

The sun had begun to set, casting a shadow over the edge of the large gates where the company was encamped. The moment of truth had come: the burglar would go forth to face the dragon. Thorin didn't hold out much hope, but maybe the invisible ring the hobbit had found would turn out to be of use. Despite his misgivings deep down Thorin had a sort of respect for the Hobbit's foolish bravery. Perhaps he had what it would take to succeed.

He looked at Bilbo, who was sitting nearby on a rock. The hobbit was visibly shaking; it reminded Thorin of the first time he had gone into battle and he felt a sort of empathy for the hobbit. He knew what it was like to face a terrible foe for the first time not knowing one's own ability. He shook his head, this was no time for pity. He needed a burglar, and he needed one now. There was no time for sentimental speeches when a dragon lay inside guarding one of the most precious items ever found beneath a mountain.

**Thanks for anyone making it this far! I will try to update more regularly. **


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